Harry Potter and the Second Voldemort War
by Masked One
Summary: Harry's life has never been normal, but now he has to save his world from the war it has been plunged into. With a new tag-along in tow, he dives head first into his 6th year.
1. Default Chapter

A/N: This is the COMPLETELY REDONE version of this chapter. If you read it before and thought it was horrid, I agrre completely. Thanks to my wonderful beta reader over the the Mugglenet Fanfiction Forums, AlexisTaylor, this chapter now MAKES SENSE. A big round of applause for my beta.

**Harry Potter and the Second Voldemort War**

Chapter One:

"Plain, Boring, and Normal"

Living in Little Whinging was like participating in a lifelong competition. The contestants were arranged by household, each struggling and gnashing their teeth to achieve the pinnacle of success; the ability to say of themselves that they were plain, boring, and normal.

The streets were straight, smoothly paved, and respectfully named. Square houses stood behind pristine, rich green lawns. Gleaming cars sat in driveways, displayed to the public as prizes of wealth and respectability. Televisions spilled the news out of sterile sitting rooms and into obsessively cared for, overly fertilized gardens.

Of all the streets in Little Whinging, one consistently held the fiercest competition, and also caused the most scandal. That street was Privet Drive, and both the competition and the scandal came from the cleanest house on the street: Number Four.

The Dursleys, who inhabited the house, were a mystery to most of the local residents. Vernon Dursley was the director of a firm that made drills, and it was said that he was very good at what he did. He was a robust man; wide and solidly built, with almost no neck between his large magenta face and his large, puffed-up chest. His pride and joy rested on the things: his normality, his son, and his moustache.

Petunia Dursley was a thin, horse-faced blonde. She had a rather squeaky voice, and could be relied upon for the latest scrap of gossip that flew through the neighborhood. Her neck, which she liked to consider elegant (and other people compared to that of a rubber chicken) was nearly twice as long as necessary. People joked (quietly and behind their hands) that Vernon and Petunia had hoped to balance each other out in that respect.

Dudley Dursley, their son, was very popular with the other boys his age; he was, after all, the head of his own gang. Though his mother still called him childish and embarrassing names, his street name was Big D. He was famous as the boxing champion of the last two years, and for beating up young children while smoking on street corners.

As the children were usually too scared to say who beat them up, Dudley's nighttime activities had yet to affect his parent's standing in the social food chain. No, the reason Number Four was the center of scandal in the neighborhood was the fourth member of the Dursley Household.

Harry Potter was a skinny boy, who looked like a mouse in the cast-off elephant skins that were Dudley's old clothes. Petunia was Harry's aunt, and by all accounts the Dursleys shouldn't have taken in their nephew to begin with; he was said to be trouble. It was common knowledge around town that he went to St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys, and anyone who saw him sulking around would have to agree.

He looked quite a mess with his black hair sticking up all ways and his pale face turned down towards his feet. He could be seen traveling the roadways after dark, or sitting in the park staring into space. His green eyes were blank behind round glasses that became more and more beat up as the summer wore on.

No one liked Harry Potter, and it was assumed that he returned the favor. Had anyone bothered to pay attention to him beyond yelling at him, though, would have noticed that he seemed to have a sort of truce with one person in town. Batty, old, cat-loving Mrs. Figg was getting too frail to carry her tins of cat food back from the store, and Harry sometimes helped her. He would trudge along beside her, looking most reluctant, but speaking to her with the common respect one was supposed to bestow on an elder.

Harry was performing precisely this task on a Friday evening in the second week of July. The sun was beginning to lean towards the west, but it was still full daylight. The sound of the evening news spilled through windows that were open to allow in the warm breeze, and mixed with the carefree laughing of children. It was a beautiful day, the sky bright with only a few fluffy clouds that seemed bent on littering the radiant blue.

They walked at a brisk pace. The flip-flopping of Mrs. Figg's dirty, worn slippers seemed to echo off the neighboring homes. "Pick up the pace!" she screeched. "Children these days, lazy, every one of them."

He obliged by walking faster. Soon enough they were opening her weather-beaten door. The old woman stood aside to let him in, impatiently tapping her foot, her pink curler-laden head tipped to one side. Harry wondered if she'd ever taken the curlers out. She began to speak as he set the heavy bags on the countertop.

"I don't know what Fudge thinks he's doing," Mrs. Figg said as she shuffled around in her slippers, putting most of the tins away in a cupboard, "but he's turned the Ministry into a right mess. He nearly let Lucius Malfoy off, you know!"

"What?" Harry asked indignantly. "That's ridiculous. Half the Order saw him there, even if Fudge won't take my testimony. Malfoy was wearing a Death Eater mask, for Merlin's sake."

"Potter, that man has been in office since before you joined the Wizarding World, and I've never once seen him make a good decision. He does what the Old Blood tells him to, not what's right. You of all people should know that!"

Shrugging his shoulders slightly, Harry let out a half-laugh, half-sigh. It was a rather forced sound, not because he didn't see the humor, but because he hadn't laughed much in the last month. It had been the worst month of his life, which was saying something, considering the life he'd lived.

Harry Potter wasn't a criminal--at least, not in the non-magical world. He'd been in trouble with his own Ministry enough times, and would be again if they ever found out some of the things he'd done. But he most definitely did not attend St. Brutus's. It was a lie his Uncle had come up with to cover the truth.

Harry was a wizard who attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
He wasn't just any wizard, however. He was the Boy-Who-Lived, and though no  
one but he and his Headmaster knew it, he was bound by Prophesy to save the  
wizarding world or die trying.

He was forced to come live with the Dursleys after the dark wizard Voldemort attacked his parents. Harry was only an infant, but Voldemort tried to kill him as well. Harry's father dueled Voldemort and lost, and his mother had sacrificed her life to save her son. In doing so, she had created a magical protection so strong that the curse Voldemort tried to kill Harry with rebounded and weakened the evil wizard nearly to the point of death.

Voldemort was back in full power now after a long exile, and a nearly a month ago, he'd lured Harry to the Ministry of Magic's research center, the Department of Mysteries. Harry had escaped with his life, but he'd lost his godfather, Sirius Black. It was right after the fight that Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, had told Harry about the Prophesy.

It was quite a lot to take in all at once. The fact that his mother's magical protection only lasted while he lived with the Dursleys hadn't helped, as it meant he had to return to a place where everyone hated him. Neither had the other news; the wizarding world was at war, with attacks nearly every night, and the Ministry of Magic was spinning wildly out of control.

Noticing Harry's dismal mood, Mrs. Figg fell silent. She carefully opened several tins of cat food. The mewing came from all direction as the cats sauntered towards their mistress. Her hands shook slightly with age as she set each tin on the floor in turn, watching adoringly while they ate.

"The protections feel funny," Harry said suddenly. "They didn't tingle like that last week." He was referring to the spells put upon the old lady's home to protect her when she couldn't protect herself.

"Oh, don't worry dear," she answered with a smile. "They've been made a bit stronger is all. Dumbledore fixed them yesterday. The aura should settle by tomorrow afternoon."

Harry looked closely at her as she said this. He wondered if it made her feel sad, talking about magic like that. She was a squib- someone without magical abilities who was born to magical parents.

"Dumbledore was here yesterday?" he asked, wondering if the Headmaster had passed along any news of Harry's friends.

"Oh, that reminds me," she said brightly, "he left your O.W.L results and letters from your friends. He said the other Hogwarts letters were going out today, and he thought he'd spare the owl a trip."

"You've had my O.W.L results since yesterday and you didn't tell me?" he asked with mild exasperation. She clucked her tongue at him, causing him to shrug apologetically. "I suppose a day won't kill me. May I have them now?"

"Oh, I suppose I could send a search party for them." She bustled out of the kitchen and Harry followed. He shifted his feet impatiently while she searched through many desk drawers, looking for his letters.

"It's amazing, the mess that can collect in one day," she said, when she finally found his three letters under about ten others. Harry murmured something indistinct and held out his hand for the envelope.

He felt as though a group of Cornish Pixies had just been les loose in his stomach. Sinking into an old armchair, he slit the seal open with a feeling of foreboding.

_Ordinary Wizarding Level Results For: _

Harry James Potter

Results Key:

O--Outstanding

E--Exceeds Expectations

A--Acceptable (last passing grade)

P--Poor

D--Dreadful

Official O.W.L. Marks:

Transfigurations- Theory: E Practical: E Overall: E

Defense Against the Dark Arts- Theory: O Practical: O Overall: O

Charms- Theory: E Practical: O Overall: E

Potions- Theory: E Practical: O Overall: O

Herbology- Theory: A Practical: E Overall: E

_History of Magic- Theory: D Practical: N/A Overall: D _

Astronomy- Theory: A Practical: P Overall: A

Care of Magical Creatures- Theory: E Practical: O Overall: O

Divination- Theory: P Practical: P Overall: P

This score has been curved in your favor due to unusual events.

The overall score is derived by averaging the theory and practical marks. Should you have any problems with your score, please contact the Education and Scoring Department of the Ministry of Magic.

Harry read through the letter twice in quick succession before he managed to calm down enough to read it properly. The O.W.L.s were the first of two sets of examinations that would decide what he would be able to do once he left Hogwarts. As he settled down to read through the letter a third time, he felt a grin spreading across his face for the first time since the Weasley twins left Hogwarts.

"Well? How many O.W.L.s?" Mrs. Figg asked, coming up behind him.

Harry swiveled around in his chair so he was grinning up at her. "Seven," he said with some satisfaction. "And three Os. I barely scraped by on Astronomy, and I failed History of Magic and Divination."

"A big loss, that," Mrs. Figg said sarcastically. "It's always a source of pleasure to be in the presence of such great fraudulence."

Harry grinned wider. "I got into every N.E.W.T. class I'll need to be an Auror," he said, reading his letter again. An Auror, or dark wizard catcher, was the only thing Harry could see himself being after Hogwarts, but it was a feat to even pass the entrance exams. Harry would be carrying a heavy workload for his last two years of school, but he was willing.

"Marvelous! Would you like a biscuit to celebrate?" she bustled over to the tin before he could refuse.

Smiling kindly, Harry answered, "I'd love one," and resisted the urge to cross his fingers behind his back. Mrs. Figg had a kind heart, but her biscuits always tasted as though they were several years old. He'd had the misfortune of eating them several times over the years, always hoping they'd finally taste edible. He was disappointed again, however, because the Ginger Newt she handed him was rock solid.

_Hmm. not as hard as Hagrid's rock cakes, _he thought, breaking a piece off with his teeth and chewing carefully. A half giant, Hagrid had stronger teeth than a normal human, which meant that his cakes were always inedible to Harry and his friends.

"Thanks. Were there any other messages?"

"I don't think so."

Harry glanced at the clock. "I was going to stop by the park on the way home. Do you mind if I go now?"

"Not at all. Thank you for helping me with the groceries. It's a shame we can't be friendlier about it. The Dursleys would kick up a fuss if they knew, eh?"

"Probably. I was glad to help, Mrs. Figg. It's nice to see a friendly face." Though he'd been cheerful since getting his letter, the last bit was said with slight resentment. Mrs. Figg was arguably the only friendly face in the neighborhood, if you didn't count Harry's pet owl, Hedwig. As her face was all pinched and lined with years of hassle and worry, this was sad knowledge.

"Enjoy your evening, Harry. You can come by tomorrow if you want!" Mrs. Figg called as Harry turned the handle and wrenched open the creaking door.

"I might have to take you up on that offer, Mrs. Figg. Good evening!" he said while squinting into the glaring rays of the slowly descending sun.


	2. The Deal

Disclaimer: if I owned Harry Potter, he'd be cleaning my house with magic, not saving the wizarding world-and he certainly wouldn't be following my orders on a fan fiction site.

A/N: Critique is most welcome. Please share your thoughts on the story; even and perhaps especially the bad ones. I need to improve my writing more than I need an ego boost.

Also, when Harry thinks 'that was too easy' at the end of the chapter, it's because it was too easy…something is going on. House points to everyone who figures out what it is before I explain it in the story.

center b Harry Potter and the Second Voldemort War /b

Chapter Two:

The Deal /center

The evening was beautiful, and Harry was determined to enjoy it to its fullest. He walked slowly, kicking a rock in front of him down the quiet street. The roads he took were leading him in the general direction of the park, but he wasn't in any sort of hurry. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of Dudley's baggy jeans out of habit, smiling slightly as he felt his fingers brush the letters tucked within.

Harry didn't get letters from his friends very often, because owls- the method of choice for delivering wizarding post- could be intercepted. A letter that fell into the wrong hands could end up aiding the efforts of Voldemort, so correspondence was kept to an absolute minimum.

In fact, Harry hadn't been expecting to get anything from his friends until his birthday, two weeks away. The two letters (one each from his best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger) would give his troubled mind something to dwell on in the meantime.

Halfway to the park, Harry sat himself down on a stretch of curb and pulled Hermione's letters out of his pocket. The letter was written on plain paper and with a pen, as opposed to the wizarding method of using parchment and a quill. Harry assumed that she was enjoying her limitless access to technology; it was the greatest advantage of living with Muggles.

i Dear Harry,

I'm sorry about the length (or lack thereof) of this letter, but Tonks is loose in my parents' kitchen waiting while I write this. Mum and Dad are really understanding, but I don't think that stretches to the likely results of leaving Tonks and a bunch of breakable things in the same room, unsupervised.

I really hope you're ok. You seemed shell-shocked when I last saw you, and being cut off from us all-well, it must be horrible for you. I can't tell you much, even with this letter being hand delivered. Putting things on paper is dangerous. Still- I'm doing well.

Luna wrote to me once. She's well- hasn't found any . . . whatever it was she was looking for . . . but she's enjoying her holiday. I don't think she's suffered any ill effects. Neville wrote too. He said he sent a note to you, but it came back undelivered. I told him you were unavailable. He told me to tell you that his Gran is really proud.

I'm so upset. I can't do homework until I choose my classes for next term, and I can't do that until I get my results back. I don't like waiting until the end of Holiday to do my homework- what if something happens? I won't be able to get it all done . . .

I just heard a crash. I'd better go. Don't get too depressed in that emotional cesspit.

With Love,

Hermione /i

Harry chuckled as he finished the letter, thinking of Hermione bent over the paper, scribbling away while Tonks destroyed her kitchen. Tonks was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, an undercover organization led by Dumbledore to fight Voldemort. While she was a very good Auror for her young age, Tonks was infamously clumsy.

"Look, it's Potter"

The jeering voice brought Harry harshly out of his thoughts. He didn't have time to catch the speaker, but the tone was familiar. It was the same tone he'd heard all his life; from Dudley and his friends, from Draco Malfoy and his, from Lucius Malfoy- and most memorably- from Bellatrix Lestrange.

It was the tone of a bully with a victim laid out before them.

Harry's head snapped up. There were six of them, so close that their distorted shadows nearly touched his lap. He scrambled backwards and up, climbing gracelessly to his feet as he looked at the boys. They were familiar to him; some of them by name, some just by type.

"Ah, Piers, don't waste time on that rubbish" the biggest sneered and shrugged a beefy shoulder. His piggy eyes told the truth, however, flickering about in fear. He was Harry's cousin, and the only one of the group that knew about magic, or that Harry could defend himself.

"What else are we goin' ta do, Big D" It was that voice again; the one which brought up barely suppressed emotions of hatred and vicious anger. Harry closed his eyes, fighting off the urge to hex Piers Polkiss, Dudley's oldest friend, to bits. Before Harry could control himself- or Dudley could find an excuse- Piers pressed on. "Anyway, we should do it for old time's sake. It's been years since we've done him properly."

Suddenly, something burst through Harry's anger and he realized that he was trapped. The four other boys stood as they had been when Piers shouted, spread out in a loose cluster on the street. His irrational hatred fled in the face of this new problem- how to get himself out without doing magic (and getting himself in trouble with the Ministry of Magic, yet again).

i Hermione /i he thought desperately. i What would she do in this situation? How would she get out of this /i A plan began to form in the back of his mind as he looked at the group of teens preparing to beat him up. i Think like Hermione. She got us out of the mess with Umbridge. How /i

i Of course /i It came to him suddenly. i Intimidate the leader. /i Then there was another thought. i Who is the leader /i It was Dudley's gang, but from the confidence Piers was displaying, Dudley wasn't the sort to rein in his followers. i Anyway, Dudley's already intimidated. So. /i Harry tried to imagine Hermione's reaction again . . . and then the plan fell into place.

"Well, if you want to waste your time doin' that, Piers, I'm not stopping you" Dudley said, still doing a poor job concealing his nerves. Piers smirked and started towards Harry.

"It has been a long time, hasn't it, Potter" he asked in a voice he obviously thought was smoothly intimidating.

Harry smirked and shrugged. "Too long, Polkiss. Much too long" he said casually, as if he wasn't being threatened. Showing fear had never helped him in the past.

Piers faltered, even at this little show of confidence, and Dudley twitched as though longing to interfere. Harry felt his faith in his plan go up a notch. Obviously the gang wasn't used to victims that didn't cower.

"How long has it been, exactly" Harry pushed on. "But perhaps you can't count. Weren't you the smart one? Always did Dudley's homework for him . . . no wonder he failed all the time . . ."

Harry had pushed too far, too quickly, and both the boys suddenly felt the need to defend themselves. Piers leapt forward and snatched the forgotten letter from Harry's hand, making it clear what his purpose in the group was.  
The rest were big- he was fast. He jumped back with the letter, leaving Harry powerless to retrieve it.

A hot wall of anger cut off his common sense, and Harry again found himself wishing they would attack, wishing they would give him any excuse to use his magic. It would be so easy to curse them. They would run off, screaming for their mothers . . . if he left them legs to run on, or mouths to scream with. The Bat-Bogey hex came to mind.

His brain was dancing with images of impending doom for Big D's gang.

"A girlfriend, Potter? Who'd go out with the likes of you" Piers snapped, scanning the letter.

Before Harry could answer, Dudley jumped in, obviously needing to save face in front of his gang. "Girlfriend? And here I thought you fancied boys . . . What happened to Cedric? Did he dump you"

Harry's rising anger cooled as abruptly as though he'd walked through a ghost. A wave of images washed over him . . . a flash of green light . . . a falling body . . .

Then the anger came back, no longer hot and uncontrollable, but the low build of it in his stomach, cold and calculated. He wanted to cause pain to these boys, to teach them what it really was to be hurt, to explain to them that there were things much worse than the silly matter of being dumped.

He hit them with the worst thing he could- the truth about what the world was really like.

"Dudley" he said coldly"I told you never to mention that again." He advanced slowly, taking a step towards his two tormentors. The anger felt like something alive inside of him, a ball of power straining outwards. "But since you asked, Cedric was murdered. He was murdered- in cold blood- for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Murdered by my enemies."

He stepped forward again, pleased to see Dudley draw back. He made a conscious effort to fight down the wandless magic that tried to erupt out of him as his fury built. "What makes you think I would fear you" he squinted at them"Or even think of you, when I have enemies like that" Harry took another step forward, turning his attention from a thoroughly terrified Dudley, to Piers and the confused cluster of boys on the street. "Do you want to know what happened to them? The ones who killed Cedric" he asked in a low, quiet voice.

There was a pause. Then he began to stretch the truth a bit for effect. "I found them. They won't be causing trouble for anyone for a long time now." Slightly disgusted that they were lapping up his hyperbole, Harry turned back to Dudley. "I don't particularly care about you and your gang. I just want to go where I want without being harassed by petty criminals. I'll leave you alone, if you leave me alone."

He extended a hand to Dudley, who took it, trying to look tough but seeming a bit relieved.

"Good" said Harry, adding a sarcastically polite"The letter" He held out his palm.

Piers shoved it wordlessly into Harry's hands, and the boys turned and walked away. There was a bit more speed to their step than normal. Harry was left behind, thinking i That was too easy. /i Another thought struck him hard. i Piers read Hermione's letter /i

Harry read through the letter again, relieved to find no mention of magic. The relief was quickly replaced by self-disgust. i One would think, Potter /i he told himself in a perfect imitation of his least favorite teacher, Professor Snape i that you would have learned the consequences of not thinking through your actions, wouldn't they? But it appears not. If Piers had read something about charms, or owls, or wands, you would have been in a tight spot. /i

Feeling rather shaken from his encounter, Harry continued towards the park.


End file.
